The Day the Music Died
by Ladyhawk
Summary: Saying goodbye is bittersweet


TITLE: The Day the Music Died  
AUTHOR: Ladyhawk   
EMAIL ADDRESS: funger1@netscape.net  
FANDOM: Velvet Goldmine  
CATEGORY: (holds up a box of tissues) at least I hope so.  
RATING: R  
PAIRING: Curt/Arthur  
SUMMARY: Saying goodbye is bittersweet  
DISCLAIMER: They own the movie and these guys, I don't  
Feedback? PULEEZE  
  
Author's note: FYI, the first part of this is blatantly stolen from the   
last book of VC Andrews' Flowers in the Attic series (Seeds of   
Yesterday, I believe). I've wanted to do this for awhile. Tell me if it   
worked, please :)  
  
  
The Day the Music Died  
by Ladyhawk (funger1@netscape.net)  
  
James Arthur Wild walked up to his father's house. Knocking on the door   
and getting no answer, he opened it with the key Curt had given him when   
he was ten. He stepped inside.  
  
"Dad?" Going upstairs and to a bedroom, he found his father sitting in   
the large picture window there. Curt's long grey hair shined as he gazed   
out into the sun.  
  
"Dad, mom wants to know if she should come over. You weren't answering   
your phone." James reached out to touch his father and found his skin   
cold.  
  
Looking around to try to get his composure, he spotted Curt's electronic   
diary on the window next to him.  
  
He began to cry. "Oh, Dad. Oh, Daddy Arthur."  
  
Somehow, he found the strength to call the ambulance. As he waited, he   
turned on the diary and began to read.  
  
---------------------------------------------------  
  
You know I keep this thing around for you, don't you, my love? I mean, I   
know you bought the books, then the goddamn electronic things to keep my   
song lyrics and notes in. But I used them mostly to talk to you. You   
always knew when there were things I wanted to say, but didn't know how.   
You just waited until I wrote them down in these things and laid the   
book where you could find it. After you read my words, it was always   
easier to finish talking to you. You never faulted me for this, even   
though I imagine it frustrated you at times.  
  
That's why it amazes me that I'm writing in it now. You'll never see   
this entry. And it breaks my heart.  
  
We had a good life, I know that, but it was so hard when you left me two   
days ago. I don't know how to go on without you, I just don't.  
  
It's amazing, that I, the glam/punk bad boy, ended up with such a good   
life. I started out trying to destroy myself in almost every way   
possible.  
  
By the time I met you, my heart, I was trying to clean up both my heroin   
addiction and my addiction to the gorgeous-but-shallow Brian Slade.   
Strange as it might seem, the first addiction was easier to deal with.  
  
Our first time started as a way to get over Brian. You looked so   
adorable in your makeup and blue hair. You reminded me of Brian the   
first time I remember seeing him, when he still was relatively--himself,   
I guess.  
  
But even so, you were sweeter, more alive than he ever was. Even   
slightly stoned and slightly scared, you had a presence that reached out   
and touched me like no other. I never told you, but I saw that spaceship   
too. The one you said you saw in a hallucination that night. I think   
whatever it was, it gave us its blessing.  
  
I never expected the morning to be better than the sex that night. But   
it was. The roughhousing, the talking, the laughing. It made it so--  
real. After the fake world Brian pulled me into, I needed that. I was   
sorry to leave, but you were young, and didn't need to be tied down to   
someone who had no direction. And I had to find myself in the whole   
mess. You helped me start to, and I will always be grateful for that.  
  
My life in between, the part you missed, was hard. I remember you   
telling me you struggled with your identity, finding a career, finding a   
place that accepted you, at least to some extent. Well, I had the   
career. I knew I still had music to write, things to say. I had to get   
off the drugs first, though. Brian's escapades made me look for comfort.   
I was afraid to look for help, so I turned right back to the chemical   
crutch.  
  
I was pretty far down that path when someone came to my rescue, finally.   
Jack had gotten worried when I never showed up to cut that next record.   
He sent Mandy in search of me, knowing I'd at least listen to her.  
  
Unfortunately, she wasn't in much better shape than I was. In her case,   
it wasn't the drugs. Just plain old depression. Looking back, though, I   
think she was only a step or two away from using something to try to   
keep herself alive. But thanks to Jack, we found each other again. And   
for a time, it was enough.  
  
I don't know why I could never tell you about it. I felt like the   
ultimate coward when I asked Mandy to tell you what I couldn't. But what   
she said is true. I only slept with her once. Six years after I left you   
on that rooftop, to the day. I guess fate was trying to tell me   
something.  
  
What happened that night with her, it helped sustain me until I saw you   
again. Because me and Mand, we created something wonderful. Our little   
Jamie.   
  
Now we knew we weren't in love, and marriage was out of the question. It   
wouldn't be fair to us, it wouldn't be fair to him. Unhappy parents are   
some of the worst kind. I know this for a fact.  
  
So we got adjoining apartments, wherever we were. Jamie was born in   
Berlin, right after I finished recording my last track. Jack rushed   
into the studio to pull me out to the hospital.  
  
The birth took place just as I got there. I held him in my arms for the   
first time as Mandy drifted to sleep. I kissed her on her forehead as I   
held him. Since we lost our grips on Brian, she has always been my best   
friend (other than you, my love). And this was the best gift a friend   
could ever possibly give me. At least that's what I thought at the time.   
Your love is the only thing that ever equalled Jamie.  
  
When I asked to chose his middle name, yes, Mand did ask me who 'Arthur'   
was. "The person who taught me what was real," I said. I know you were   
surprised when she asked you how you knew about the party after the   
Death of Glitter concert. I guess you expected I told her everything   
long before you and I said our vows. I couldn't. I felt that time was   
for you and me alone.  
  
When Jamie was old enough, we moved back to the US. My record was doing   
moderately well, so Mandy wanted to start looking for work. We agreed   
from the beginning that we would share responsibilities for child-  
rearing.  
  
Many had gotten her first gig in Manhattan the night I found out about   
Tommy Stone. Reynolds was campaigning and dragging him around with him,   
as entertainment for those sick of politics, I guess. I was feeding Jamie   
his bottle in front of the TV when I saw his face. Fuck, *I* didn't   
recognize him at first.  
  
The lines on his face were what tripped me up I think. Of the four of us,   
he was the one that looked like he suffered the most. I never felt at all   
guilty about that. Especially after what he tried to do to you.  
  
I did figure out who he was, after watching both the eleven o'clock and   
the two a.m. rerun of the news. When Mandy came in to check on the two   
of us after the gig, I told her. I don't know if it was the shock, or if   
she really didn't care. But she didn't even blink when I told her.  
  
My friendship with Mandy, and Jamie's mere existence, made life bearable   
those few years until fate dragged you back to me. We each cut albums,   
mine doing only a little better than hers usually. We performed. But my   
heart, at least, wasn't really into it. Most of the time, I would've   
rather been home with Jamie.  
  
But then it finally happened. Mandy told me about her interview with you   
the night it happened. She said you were a sweet kid, but she didn't   
remember your name. She was so tired most of the time, with both of us   
trying to make enough to support two apartments and a kid, that I wasn't   
really surprised.  
  
But when Brian's goons came after me to keep my mouth shut, I did a   
little investigating. Arthur Stuart, I found your name fairly easily.   
You seemed well-respected as a lower-level journalist beginning to rise   
through the ranks. I couldn't find a picture of you. It was a shame too,   
because if I had, I might've found a way to tell you to stop the article   
before you got hurt.  
  
As it was, I recognized you from the first smile you gave me the night   
of the concert. Such a mystery, not Tommy, my love. That's what you had   
become. I wanted to crack that mystery wide open, but how?   
  
I gave you the pin as a reminder of the good times. You looked so sad at   
that point. I know, you told me, you may have been doing good in your   
job, but you were lonely. You hadn't met anyone remotely attractive in   
years. I'm surprised you let me walk away. I'm surprised *I* let me walk   
away. I, sure as hell, didn't want to leave. More fool me, as they say.  
  
So Tommy tried to get you on harrassment for the things you said before   
you found me that night. It was a fucking press q-and-a thing. It's not   
harrassment to ask a question, is it?  
  
I think he got scared. I know I did when I found out it was you he was   
after. When Mandy glanced at the TV screen and asked me "Isn't that the   
reporter that interviewed me, the one that Brian wants arrested?", my   
heart stopped. Other than Mandy, you had been the best part of my past.   
There was no fucking way I was gonna let him hurt you, goons or no   
goons.  
  
So I marched straight over to the Herald, and into your little office.   
The look on your face, oh, it was hilarious. Your jaw nearly fell off   
your face when I told you that I was going to have a talk with 'my   
friend'.  
  
You recovered quickly enough to try to stop me, but I was adamant. I was   
willing to risk anything for you, even though I barely knew you.   
Anything but Jamie. I told Jack to take Mandy and him out of the country   
because I knew this was going to get ugly.  
  
But with them safely tucked away in Germany, I went to work causing as   
much trouble for my former lover as I possibly could. I found the   
evidence you were looking for, and I planted it under your boss' nose.   
The contract he signed with Reynolds to get paid for the campaign tour,   
it was signed 'Brian Slade'. The wording in the contract, however, said   
that 'Tommy Stone' would perform. What an idiot! I would've thought mama   
Shannon would've burned that one. Guess she missed it.   
  
Your boss isn't one to pass up good dirt. I twisted his arm a bit to   
make sure you ended up looking like the good investigative reporter when   
all was done. It's the truth, you were one of the best. I just wanted   
credit to be given where it was due.  
  
Once the dirt hit all the papers, and the evidence was irrefutable,   
'Tommy' eased up on you. You came to thank me. Somehow you found my   
apartment. Like I said, a good investigative reporter.  
  
You stammered more saying thank you than you did the night we met.   
Hadn't anyone done anything good to you since that night? At least that   
wasn't work related? Well, I had to stop your stuttering somehow. So I   
kissed you. Full-fledged, heated. And oh, I was back on that rooftop in   
record time.  
  
I knew you felt the same thing. I could see it in your eyes. I don't   
think you even hesitated when I pulled you into my bedroom. Your body   
and mind merged with mine that night. And they never let me go.  
  
In the morning, you found out about the other love in my life. Mandy let   
him into the apartment at about ten, not realizing that you were here.   
We all usually had a late breakfast together on Saturdays.  
  
The three year old scamp headed straight for the bedroom. We didn't even   
have a second to think because I had left the door open.   
  
But when he jumped on the bed, you didn't even blink. Well, not until I   
told you his full name. You only told me your first name that night ten   
years earlier. But those two syllables were engraved on a piece of my   
heart. The whole thing was so important to me that I probably could   
still recite what we said that first night verbatim.  
  
Jamie quickly fell head over heels for you. How could he not? You were   
wonderful to him from day one. You were wonderful to all of us.  
  
Three people handling the responsibilities of a child is easier than   
two. And when all three are equally loved by him--it's heaven sent.   
You quickly wormed your way into our daily routine, taking over a lot of   
the day-to-day stuff on the days you could work at home.  
  
Less stress and the love you gave me--finally the music flowed like   
water. Mandy was amazed. She said it was the best I ever wrote. I guess   
she knew a good thing when she saw it, because she made it her mission   
to make sure the album got out. She stayed up late with me arranging   
music, discussing lyrics. Jack gave her a commission cut as my 'personal   
manager', he being the 'music manager'. She was thrilled and stayed in   
that capacity for the rest of my career. And did it pay off. I had a   
whole concert tour booked by the end of that year.  
  
That's when I realized I didn't want that kind of life anymore. I had to   
leave you and Jamie behind. It nearly killed me, even though I flew home   
every chance I got.  
  
You were as supportive as ever, even though I could see the strain in   
your eyes. But Jamie, well yes, he did love 'Daddy Arthur' to death, but   
this time you weren't enough. We found a way to drop a few dates just so   
Mandy and I could be home for a bit longer. I wouldn't have regretted it   
if we had cancelled the tour.  
  
So I started cutting albums without tours. But that wasn't enough. Jack,   
being the genius that he is, figured that out and decided to pull me   
onboard as a songwriter and music arranger.  
  
It was a godsend. When I had to leave home, it was for a day or two at   
the most. But I barely had to ever go further than the middle of   
Manhattan. Even when we all moved out to Long Island, I could always   
make it home to kiss my boy goodnight and sleep with my heart.  
  
Of course, your career was taking off by leaps and bounds as mine   
flourished. The one time you left me voluntarily for more than three   
days, you earned a Pulitzer prize. Your coverage of the Reynolds scandal   
was stunning, even though I still don't quite understand what he did. I   
just knew you revealed every flaw in his political character without   
resulting to the namecalling I see a lot of journalists do. Mandy, being   
more up on politics than I, said Reynolds deserved the impeachment he   
got, given what you found.  
  
Although that would've earned you a mighty promotion, you quietly sat   
back and said you preferred local news. That's the only thing we fought   
about for more than an hour. I didn't want us to hold you back. It took   
three days though, to understand when you said it wasn't us, but the   
promotion, that would hold you back. What did I do to deserve such love?  
  
So you took a promotion to local columnist. Less prestigious, but still,   
you were well respected from the minute you started writing that column   
about an outsider's view of New York life. And you looked like you had a   
ball every time you sat in front of the computer. It made me smile to   
watch you, just as you smiled every time you listened to me play a new   
song.  
  
Jamie flourished under our care. He somehow adopted your gentle attitude   
toward everyone and everything. I was thrilled it was you he chose to   
emulate, instead of my crass ways. Mandy got scared when he decided to   
go into acting, fearing I guess, that he'd fall into a trap similar to   
the one we had gotten stuck in. But he found a good manager, Oscar   
winning roles, and best of all, a loving marriage. Denise is as good to   
him as you were to me.  
  
It was a wonderful life, my love. Why did it have to end?  
  
The doctor said it was an aneurysm. A blood vessel burst in your brain   
as I slept in your arms. When I woke up to find you cold beside me, I   
couldn't think. I mean you were only sixty years old. It's not supposed   
to end yet. I must've stayed like that for an hour before I could get up   
to call Jamie.  
  
Once he came over, I didn't have to do or say a thing. He took care of   
everything. Calling the hospital, funeral arrangements, all the things I   
couldn't even begin to think of.  
  
The funeral's tomorrow, my love. I can't do it. I just can't. How can I   
say goodbye to the other half of my soul?  
  
Maybe I won't have to. There was a falling star in the sky last night.   
And yes, I made a wish.  
  
----------------------------------------------------  
  
Headlines from the next day's New York Herald:  
  
"Music great Curt Wild dies two days after his lover, columnist Arthur   
Stuart. Wild's son: 'God couldn't bear to break up such a great love'"  
  
----------------------------------------------------  
  
Tissue anyone? How'd I do? 


End file.
